


The Kin of my Heart

by Moon_Rose (Moonrose91)



Series: The Bonds of Family [2]
Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 14:06:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moon_Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The side stories of "My Family in Blood and Soul". It is not, in fact, in chronological order.</p><p>It is in "order that I write them."</p><p>I apologize for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aftermath of the First Yule with the Hidden Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The festivities of Yule have passed within _The Black Sword_ and it is time to discuss things of vital importance to the Hidden Mountain while the Jewel and her son sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the Outsider POV of [Chapter 30](http://archiveofourown.org/works/674287/chapters/1260007).

Tavor shook his head at the passed out Ori in the arms of his equally passed out mother. He made sure the fire was still going and nearly laughed to find Lyer and curled up against Dori, using her knees and the edge of the chair as a pillow to keep him, mostly, upright.

As an orphan, Lyer had picked his name as a play on words and had no heart name. He had refused one from Tavor, or anyone else, but a Dwarf without a heart name was barely a Dwarf at all, and Tavor hoped that Lyer would accept one from Dori. The fact Lyer asked her to braid his hair was a good start and he looked up to see Mesi frowning at Dori. “She’s thinner Tavor,” Mesi hissed and Tavor pat the Dwarf’s shoulder calmly.

“I know. But we can’t just _make_ _her_ move anywhere. She keeps to that place for a reason, and I will not force her from it, not when she’s been forced out of every other home she’s managed to create,” Tavor argued, steel in his voice, because right now, he’s not Tavor, the tavern owner.

He is Tavor of the Hidden Mountain, the iron fist and steel spine behind it and Mesi backs down immediately.

“Lyer has been bringing her food, the others bring yarn, and Dager gives toys for Ori. We give her the leftovers and all will be well. The winter came fast, yes, and the snows have blocked the pass, but we will _all_ make it through. Dori most especially, because Thorin is here as well with Dis. Between the two of them, the King of the Blue Mountains is going to have to release the stores before the stalls get completely empty,” Tavor continued and Mesi backed down further, along with the rest who were awake.

“Harmem isn’t going to be happy with how thin she is,” Droeur pointed out.

“What’s Harmem got to do with it?” Sori asked.

The resulting smacks upside the head made him whine, even as Tavor sighed. “Dori _trusts_ him. Dori treats him like everyone else. He’s going to guard that far more fiercely than…than a mother wolf with her cubs,” Tavor stated.

Drumur didn’t notice his hesitation over his words, but Mesi did and raised an eyebrow. Tavor pretended like he hadn’t almost said, ‘a dragon guarding their hoard’ as, head of the Hidden Mountain or not, Drumur would have tried to kill him if he said such a thing.

“Well, on the bright side, she’ll be equally unhappy with him,” Hameur stated.

That earned a snicker from Droeur and Dager humphed softly before he light his pipe once more, his fingers shaking slightly. He let out a curse, an old Mannish one, and everyone pretended like they didn’t see it the shaking fingers.

Tavor noticed they did that often, pretending to not see what they saw.

He would laugh, if it wouldn’t scare his most inner circle (minus two; curse Nori for never being around during Yule), over the irony of the most vigilant watchers pretending they couldn’t see the obvious signs of one of their own rapidly reaching the end of their life.

Well, that was talk for after all the festivities passed.

Dori wasn’t the only one Tavor had to convince to move into the safety and warmth of the tavern, but he had a feeling Dori would be far harder to convince than Dager.

He hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tavor is evil to write. Just saying.


	2. Mother Dori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The missing tea scene from [Chapter 13](http://archiveofourown.org/works/674287/chapters/1239058) and [Chapter 14](http://archiveofourown.org/works/674287/chapters/1241275)

"I'm Tavor of Or," he introduced with a small incline of his head, taking her in as quickly as he could.

"Dori, daughter of Riel," she responded softly before she whispered in her son's ear and she winced when he swung his feet and kicked her.

She was on the thin side, for a Dwarf woman, though her beard curled around her chin, a rarity among their females, but made her quite a handsome picture, were she a bit rounder in all things. She had a gentle manner in everything, and it was something that had stayed throughout her hardships, whatever they might be (because her eyes are filled with determination tempered by  _love_ ), and not something that is likely to change.

She stands out like a sore thumb, but Tavor actually makes tea.

Because he's staring at someone who walked down from wherever she keeps herself (and mentally he searches for 'Dori, daughter of Riel' and knows he's going to have to send a magpie team out to find anything) and entered his tavern, with probably only a bare working knowledge that it wasn't entirely on the up and up. "Miss Dori, please, have a seat," he greeted and poured the tea into the earth ware mugs.

The boy squirms on her lap as she settles on the chair and whines and kicks his feet.

He's in the Fussing Years, full-tilt, and Dori looks exhausted. Now that he's really looking at her.

And Tavor knows, even though she's not part of the Hidden Mountain, even though the worst dregs this city can pull up can (and will) tear her apart, he knows he's going to hire her.

He's going to hire this soft little Dwarf lady from the city, and he's going to make sure that she's not harmed so long as she drags herself through this. Because he doesn't care she's gone through it before, as she explains in a voice that is like tempered steel, but also so  _bitterly_ desperate, that Tavor is  _afraid_ to let her leave his tavern without a job.

(Later, when the magpie team returns, Tavor knows her son's name is Ori, he knows she's unmarried, he knows she knows Dwalin son of Fundin, Bane of the Hidden Mountain, and he knows she has a younger brother. He knows she lived in a town, and that she's a member of the Blacksmith Guild, listed as a Journeyman, but with her status as  _on probation_ , meaning she can't make anything till she pays Guild fees. What he doesn't know is where she lived before, what the name of her brother was, and who left her with a son to raise on her own. But it is all he gets.)

When Droeur and Hameur take a shine to her, when Lyer begins to haunt her steps, and Dager watches her, Tavor is surprised but grateful.

When the others cheer on the nickname and hug her close and  _say_ Mother Dori like they mean it, he relaxes.

(When  _Harmem_ teases and flirts and she doesn't flinch, despite his warnings about him, Tavor starts to think hiring her wasn't a mistake.)

 


	3. Bruised and Bloody Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harmem returns to the city and gets side-tracked by an unexpected person.
> 
> (Technically a prequel to the unpublished, unwritten, Chapter 31, so small spoiler.)

Harmem's ribs ached and his left cheek ached, and his lip had finally stopped bleeding, while the cut over his right eyebrow still refused to  _stop_ bleeding and he feels like he's been run over by a wagon drawn by draft horses driven by drunken elves.

He groaned and rubbed his face, wincing when his fingers touched his left cheek and a voice, above him, said, "You look like you've been worked over by Sauron himself."

Harmem looked up and glared at Nori of Ri, who was relaxed above him, letting a coin spin over his fingers. "Thank you for that. That helps, what are you doing here?" he retorted, leaning against the cool stone and resisting the urge to moan with relief.

He just wanted to head to home, soak in a warm bath, and once he got himself not feeling so stiff, go flirt with Dori. "I have no clue what you mean," Nori responded.

"Four days beyond Yule. You're  _never_ in the city around Yule," Harmem answered, staring up at Nori.

The answer kept Harmem from asking  _why do you avoid your sister and sister-son?_

He doesn't think he wants to know the answer.

"Oh...work. Checking on things," Nori answered, the coin disappearing.

"Hmmm. If they're from the Iron Hills, make sure you get half your pay first," Harmem warned and Nori made his way down before he stood next to Harmem.

Harmem was always thrown when he realized he was actually taller than Nori. "That where you got your new skin tone?" Nori teased.

"Yes, actually. They tried to kill me instead of pay me. So...I twisted it back on them," Harmem answered and eyed Nori.

"You going to visit Mother Dori and the little one?" Harmem asked, daringly probably.

Nori shrugged and then shook his head. "I...I can't. Mahal curse it, I screw up more than what I get right and even though I know...you are too easy to talk to," Nori responded and glared violently at Harmem, as if he were at fault.

Harmem only smiled distantly, remembering Dori’s own similar words to him.

Brother and sister were reflecting each other.

It was…amusing to him. "I've heard that before," he stated and the assassin let his head tilt to the left slightly.

"Maybe, next year, you could just come and have a vacation. Spend it with family, not get into trouble, and leave with proper good-byes instead of a note..." Harmem stated and Nori huffed.

"Tavor hates those notes," Harmem added and Nori gave a distracted nod.

He then hummed a bit and sighed. "Could you do me a favor?" Nori asked.

"You'll owe me, but yes," Harmem answered and Nori suddenly handed him two wrapped gifts to him, one smaller than the other.

"They've got receipts in them. Just...give them to Dori and Ori for me, please?" Nori asked and Harmem took them carefully.

The smaller was light, the larger...heavy. Very, _very_ heavy. "What did you get her?" Harmem asked.

Nori just laughed and saluted before he disappeared. Harmem shook his head and headed home.

He had to get cleaned up as much as he could before going off to find Dori and Ori.

He had presents of his own to deliver to the pair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take requests for "outsider" POVs.
> 
> But I do _not_ take requests that are of the smut-variety.


	4. Lyer's Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is set between [Chapter 32](http://archiveofourown.org/works/674287/chapters/1272326#main) and Chapter 33 of 'My Family in Blood and Soul'.
> 
> (At the time of this posting, Chapter 33 wasn't posted because it was refusing to be written till I wrote this)

Lyer has never run so fast in his life.

He doesn’t pause for any he runs across, heading for Healer Fima’s house, only to find only Tavor’s knot in the window. He pants softly, and then turns around, running toward Tavror’s inn, uncaring of who he has to slip through to get there.

He is not expecting someone to grab him by the back of his shirt, at the collar specifically, and haul him back by all his layers. “Let me go! I didn’t do anything!” he snarled as he was dragged backwards, only to find himself staring up at Dwalin.

He gulped and shrunk against the wall only to let out a whine of fear that, if this were any other situation, he would have never allowed to be heard. However, now, Dwalin, Captain of the Guard for the City, has him pinned to a wall and is being very threatening.

“The lady you led us to, the lady with the dwarflings, how do you know her?” the Captain of the Guard demanded and Lyer swallowed nervously, staring at the great warrior that could probably kill him with his _pinky_ , and was, officially, terrified.

Not even _Harmem_ terrified him, often able to speak his honeyed words and get himself out of trouble. But Nori was far craftier than Lyer, and Nori never escaped Dwalin with words.

 _Why_ did Nori actually _enjoy_ ticking this guy off?

_Why?_

Did he have a death wish or something? Because Dwalin was _terrifying_ and Lyer didn’t want to die.

But he didn’t want Amad hurt either.

“She…she works at the tavern I sit at. The owner…he gives me food if I help clean up after everyone’s gone home,” Lyer stuttered out, putting the appropriate head duck in.

Dwalin’s grip loosened and he looked up, eyes widening slightly.

Dwalin eyed him a bit, then handed him a sealed letter. “Give that to her fer me, will yeah? And if it was opened, I’ll know!” he warned and Lyer nodded rapidly before pocketing it on his inside pocket that was a secret, hard for pickpockets to get into.

“And if you _ever_ insult Thorin again, you’ll not out run me, do you understand?” Dwalin growled and Lyer gave a short nod, half out of his mind with panic, and then Dwalin is shoving him back down the road and Lyer runs.

He is not a fool, for all that he’ll act like one.

He’ll read it over Amad’s shoulder, later. First, he needs to get Tavor.

Tavor will know what to do, with Healer Fima out and about.

* * *

Lyer nearly trips as he rushes into _The Black Sword_ and grabs Tavor’s arm. “It is Amad!” he pants out, but that has Tavor already snapping orders to two of his subordinates that are high enough to watch the tavern, but low enough that they have no idea what is wrong with Lyer.

They are moving and Lyer is explaining as best as he can as they go the back ways to Amad’s home.

Lyer doesn’t even realize he has been calling Amad, Mother Dori…

He stills in the tiny house, with the bed in the corner, Tavor having already moved her to it, sighing over her lack of care for herself as he is hit with the sudden realization that somewhere along the way, Mother Dori stopped being Mother Dori and became Amad instead.

And he isn’t sure what he should do with that information so, instead, he puts his boots next to Amad’s and curls up at the foot of her bed, shoving his forehead against her knit blanket covered knees are and doesn’t twitch when he finds Ori being handed over to him.

He just pulls the little one close and curls up tight.

Somewhere, in the space of one breath to the next, he falls asleep.

(When he wakes, hours later, he’s cuddled against Amad’s side and she’s sitting up slightly on pillows while she sleeps, Ori snoring lightly into his neck. He has a fleeting thought of moving, but he doesn’t care enough to. Instead, he just closes his eyes and cuddles back into her side. There is time enough, later, to think on the fact Mother Dori is no longer Mother Dori, but _Amad_.)

(Lyer thinks he can live with that feeling of Mother Dori being _Amad_ however, and doesn’t care to think on it too much anyway.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I have prompts in the comment threads, somewhere, on Family, but a reminder would be helpful. (I lose things. Often. Even when saved on my computer. Like my list of prompts.)


	5. Tying Knots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tavor learns that Dori knows the knots, and even understands that the color is important.
> 
> (This has no place, really. It is just any time after Harmem accepts Dori.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This picture](http://tiedostoaeisaatavilla.tumblr.com/post/40801954561/i-wanted-to-do-something-cute) was found shortly before I wrote this.
> 
> It was totally unintentional. I found it on my tumblr, which made me realize that this was where I got the idea.
> 
> (So, creator of this work, sorry for not getting permission first.)

Tavor sighed over the knot.

It had been damaged in a small disagreement that led to various things being a bit banged up. This knot of yarn was one such thing, hanging delicately from the lamp, a mark of safety and security, molded of nine colors, braids that were carefully twirled and twisted into a delightful knot. “Oh, dear,” Dori stated when she saw what Tavor was handling, the fine soft yarn barely catching on his calluses.

“Yeah. I don’t have another of these knots done up, nor the yarn for it,” Tavor stated and Dori sniffed a bit.

“Well, I do. My basket is in the back, next to Ori’s cot. I’ll have it done before I head home,” she answered, humming over it.

“Have it done?” he asked, but Dori was already walking away.

Tavor shook his head slightly and tossed the knot into the fire with a sigh. Getting the yarn to fix it up, braid it all together, and even getting the right colors was going to be a pain. If he would have to probably send out one of his thieves to get it, honestly. The knots had to be made with honest yarn and he blinked a bit as Dori returned with her basket, Ori in her arm. She carefully settled the basket on the table and, after hesitating, she carefully settled Ori into the basket as well. She smiled at the way he cuddled into the skeins and balls of yarn before she began to fetch out nine colors.

Nine that matched, exactly, what was in the knot. She pulled the scissors from their leather holder tied tight to the edge of the basket and she carefully unrolled the yarn from the basket to the edge of the table, snipping calmly and returning the ball of yarn as she did so, until she had nine lines down the table, starting with the pale grey at the far left, followed by the royal purple (he was pretty sure that wasn’t honestly given to her, but it was honestly given to him and that counted in his mind), then the deep pink. It was these three she carefully tied together at the top before she began to rapidly braid it, knotting it at the bottom so it wouldn’t unravel.

But the braid was a thief’s braid, braiding under instead of over.

Then she did the same for the golden-yellow, the black, and the pale blue, and then she braided together the green, the white, and the blood red.

The three braids were tied together so they wouldn’t be lost and then she began to weave, her fingers easily remaking the lost knot.

“How’s that?” she asked, holding it up by the tail, the perfect weave, once more a nine colored bowl hanging from a braid.

“Perfect,” Tavor answered with a grin.

“Who taught you?” he asked as Dori leaned up to tie it to the lamp over the table.

In the mix of faint light that came from only half the tavern still alight, Tavor thought he could see his lover, long passed from this world (A knife to the back in the dark, and Tavor never forgave himself for not insuring his lover’s safety as well as he should have.) in Dori’s face as she finished tying of the tie so the bowl hung, a mark of safety.

“My brother. One time, he got caught by a guard, well almost, so he sprained his wrist. He had to teach me how to do all the knots while he healed so he could at least mark safe places, and sturdy paths. ‘To light the way on even the darkest of paths’. He made it sound honorable,” Dori answered and Tavor leaned casually against the table.

“You don’t think it is?”

He watched the way she stared at Ori, who looked over content curled up in her knitting basket. “I think that honor can be found in it, but as a whole it is not,” Dori answered softly as she began to twist her fingers around her apron.

He thought about what the Hidden Mountain was, compared to what has become. He thought of those who whispered that it was falling, that it was weak, because the roots weren’t deep enough anymore, that Tavor did not deserve his position as the head of the Hidden Mountain, the steel spine and iron fist, ruling it.

“That is true. Do you find us honorable, Mother Dori?”

There is silence and Tavor wonders if he’s asked the wrong thing. He likes her, for all her soft mannerisms and gentle ways. The nickname “Mother” isn’t given to those of steel, to his knowledge.

He doesn’t want to lose her because she can’t handle being around them.

“In your own way, you do. You and the others of whatever you call your Mountain,” Dori answered cheerfully and Tavor felt his brain halt, even as Dori carefully collected the basket up, tucking her shawl around Ori instead of around her shoulders, carefully hefting the basket onto her hip.

“See you tomorrow Tavor,” she said and slipped out the back.

He’s been standing in silence for a while when he smiles and answers to the air, “May the Lamps light and guide your way, Mother Dori.” 


	6. Through the Eyes of Others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the Regulars' seeing Nori drag Dori out...I hope.
> 
> [Chapter 16](http://archiveofourown.org/works/674287/chapters/1242283) and [Some Chapter 17](http://archiveofourown.org/works/674287/chapters/1242484).
> 
> Also, Harmem's part has gore description. No gore actually happens just...yeah. Harmem's part is gory. Because it is Harmem and, sweet as he is, he is also _very_ violent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really just a series of drabbles put into one chapter. I might write a longer and more complicated version later, but probably not.

Hameur nearly unseats himself when he sees the back door open and the memorable hairstyle of Nori slip out, Mother Dori following closely. He hears Droeur’s hiss and rage over how Mother Dori goes with him, but Dager, across from them and discussing a plot, had fallen silent. Rage had seemed to overcome the old thief. Droeur reached out for Dager, but he was thwarted by the fact the elderly thief easily dodged around him.

Hameur twisted to watch, only to see Dager stopped by Tavor and Harmem gone from his booth.

Hameur turned to Droeur, but he shrugged at Hameur, obviously just as confused as the other.

* * *

Dager felt his eyes narrow at the disrespect the young idiots showed Little Dori. Whatever name passed his lips (and he usually took to calling her Jewel of the Black Sword, for it fit her far better than any other name, for she was a jewel, and he’d know, since, before these hands lifted cut gems, they had done the cutting), that was what he called her in his head. For she was little, too much like a daughter he had lost long ago and had no right to claim, even if it was just in memory. He saw the way, however, that the thief Nori (boisterous lad, who loved a good chase far too much; it would get him caught one day) followed after Little Dori, and how he grabbed her arm, gently pulling her toward the door.

He stood up in his rage, watching the way Harmem slipped out like a shadow after them.

He didn’t have a chance to slip out after them, Tavor grabbing his arm to keep him from following. He turns, asking silently for an explanation.

Could they trust their Dori with an assassin?

A subtle nod and Dager growled.

But he complied and stormed back over to the table with Hameur and Droeur.

* * *

Tavor watches the way Nori jumps. He watches the way Dori carefully never addresses him directly. He watches the way Nori stalks over to her, gently grabs her arm, watches how she just goes with it.

Watches how Nori leads her out the back entrance, not through the kitchen, but through a near forgotten way to a courtyard when this tavern was a house and not a tavern.

He watches how Harmem slips out after them like a shadow.

He is not worried, but there is a story between Nori and Dori.

He knows better than to assume that they are family. He knows better than to assume that this could be the brother she speaks of with fondness and exasperation.

But just because he knows better doesn’t stop him from jumping to conclusions.

Distantly, he wonders if Nori is Ori’s father, for they have a similar shape to their face, but he stops those thoughts. Mostly it is because he’d hate to have to kill someone of his Inner Circle so soon.

Stopping Dager is a bit of a problem, for he knows that Dager wants to step out, get in the way. He’s also a bit of a problem because he has a very protective gleam in his eyes, one that Tavor wishes Dager didn’t have in regards to Dori.

The last to gain it was dragged to the Execution Block and it nearly destroyed the elderly thief.

Dager, like most of the Hidden Mountain, does not trust Harmem. It does not matter that Tavor does, for Dager does not and thus he wants to be the one to protect Dori from whatever threat Nori _might_ pose to her.

But Tavor knows what Dager is asking, when he stares.

_Can Harmem be trusted with Dori?_

Tavor only nods, because he cannot answer, _There is no one she is safer with._

He knows Dager will not believe him.

(When Harmem slips back in after Dori and Nori have returned, Tavor relaxes. Because he truly would have hated losing one of his Inner Circle so soon after picking them out after the most of the _last_ Inner Circle tried to kill him.)

* * *

Harmem eyed the way Nori stared at Dori.

He didn’t like the look in Nori’s eyes. It was too watchful, too close. However, he doesn’t want to cut out Nori’s eyes, but he’s already memorizing the faces and names of the others, categorizing them quietly as he plots how best to gain vengeance of the lingering looks and attempts to touch Dori.

For Dori is a treasure, a jewel, and Harmem does not suffer to let those who would disrespect such a precious being _live_ , not if he can help it.

He watches the way she side-steps an attempt to slap her posterior, and he thinks that the two fingers that grazed (the middle and ring) will be payment, along with his tongue. The ones who just look, eyes searching and _hungry_ , as if they wish to just shove her against a wall and steal what they wish, he thinks he’ll take their eyes.

He will enjoy gagging them and chaining them in place as he carefully removes each eye to insure they live, depositing them before a healers’ apartments…maybe.

He will not do it here (not where the Hidden Mountain casts its shadow), but he has plans, and one heads off to where the water closets are kept and Nori is crossing the room.

He moves like a nervous fox and Harmem wonders if removing one of the thief’s hands at the wrist would be a valid punishment for his touching of Dori.

He is up and following, because he is tugging Dori out the back door that no one uses except in the need for a quick getaway and he stands in the shadows until he’s had enough.

His rage thrums under his skin as he taps his knife against Nori’s neck, for he is _touching_ Dori’s shoulders.

“Harmem,” Dori greets, and Harmem flashes her a warm smile, though his knife never wavers.

He doesn’t think she’ll go through on her threat, but he obeys it all the same and still his rage thrums under his skin.

Childhood friends they are _not_. But he doesn’t know what they are and that irritates him. He watches as they part, having talked and Dori takes a moment before she follows.

Harmem slips in after her, carefully turning over the new information. He lets it stew in the back of his mind, letting his subconscious pick apart the clues before he turns his thoughts to some thieves.

He won’t touch Nori, but the others are fair game.

The slight nervous shuffling that comes from his grin tells him it is not a pleasant one, but Dori merely pats his head. Jewel of Jewels she is indeed.

It is in that moment Harmem thinks he might truly be in love with Dori, and unlike any other time, he turns it over in his head, before also setting it to the back like the things he has learned tonight about Dori and Nori. He wonders if Nori is Ori’s father, but dismisses the idea.

They do not move like old lovers for him to honestly consider it.

(He does not fully admit that it is because he does not think he could stop himself from killing Nori if that were the case and, while he does not fear Tavor’s wrath, he _does_ fear Dori’s tears and he thinks she would weep for the thief if he _did_ kill the Dwarf, so he forces those thoughts away and does not question why he must, not too deeply anyway.)

* * *

Lyer is used to not being noticed from his perch in the tavern.

He picked it not to be noticed.

He worries for Mother Dori and he considers her interesting.

He does not understand, not yet, why so many have such violent reactions to Nori of Ri tugging her out.

What he does know is that Hameur and Droeur do not notice what goes on in front of their noses on their best days, and when a bit in their cups it is not one of their best days.

Dager moves like a father trying to protect his innocent daughter (but Lyer has seen her in the market with her son on her hip and no wedding beads, or braids, in her hair and knows that it is not so true, though the circumstances escape him), but Tavor stops him.

Dager doesn’t trust Harmem, but Tavor does.

Tavor sends Dager back, because he has the power to, in his eyes and strength. He is a good leader for the Hidden Mountain and Lyer is lucky it is Tavor and not another who runs it, giving him some protection so long as he keeps to its shadow.

Tavor trusts Harmem and Lyer thinks that is a wise choice.

For Harmem wishes to kill and maim right now, but he will not when so close to Mother Dori. He does not wish to stain her, which amuses Lyer a bit, for he does not think they could stain Mother Dori, even if they tried and they do not.

When Harmem returns, his eyes are fixated on those that are with Nori.

Lyer knows they will not live long beyond their next heist.

Mother Dori bustles about and he watches her.

She gleams and glitters (Jewel and sun and moon, are all fitting, but they don’t at the same time) and he starts internally when she makes her way over to him and hands him a large mug of warm tea.

No one has noticed him when he does not wish to be noticed in a long time.

He smiles into the mug of tea and decides he must follow her more often.

It would be fun.

(He doesn’t know it will change him forever.)


	7. Harmem's Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort-of...timeless.
> 
> It could really take place any time after Harmem gives her his Yule gift.

Harmem watches Mother Dori as she walks around the nearly empty tavern, gently chasing out those that need to be chased until she is finally at Harmem's table and he smiles up at her, the only two in the front room of the tavern.

It is rare he gets quiet moments with his sun and moon and is pleased when he sees that his Yule gift in her hair, gleaming at her temple and she smiles back at him, filling him with warmth where once he was sure was only cold. He resists the urge to push her loose hair behind her ear (an urge he has suppressed without fail since it first started creeping up on him) and gives a small gesture for her to join him at his booth. She hesitates, briefly, as only one who is used to spending all their feet does before she settles across from him.

"The tavern is closed Harmem," she teases lightly, but Harmem merely smiles and finishes off his ale.

"True. But something heavy is within your mind," Harmem answered with a tiny shrug and she does not startle at his statement.

She knows him well enough (too well, in all likelihood) to not be surprised that he's seen the weight that seems to have settled across her shoulders. "And if I can do anything to help ease it, I shall, whether by blades or will," Harmem stated as the silence stretched between them, comfortable and easy, if heavy. He wanted to hug her as she shook her head.

"No, Harmem there's no-..."

The words still in her throat and he watches her swallow, before she stares into his eyes. Her tray is on the table and she's leaning forward, her hand touching his, and he has to force himself to remember how to breathe. He turns his hand on instinct, instinct he should not have, and weaves their fingers together, because it fills him with warmth he thought he had long lost the right to have.

He probably shouldn't be doing this, but Dori looks at him. "Maybe, there is something you can do. Possibly," she stated and his grip tightens on her hand.

"Ask and we shall see."

The silence has become oppressing now and she looked at him. "Can you promise me, by will and knives, that you'll leave the Exiled Royals of Erebor alone?" she asked and Harmem stared at her.

The question wasn't entirely...wrong.

It was a request and made without the expectation it would be answered positively. He gives into the urge and reaches out, gently tucking Dori's hair behind her ear, startling her slightly.

She hadn't expected that and he feels a bit proud over the fact that he can still surprise her on occasion. "By my will or by my knives, King Thorin, Princess Dis, Crown Prince Fili, and Prince Kili will remain unharmed and alive to see their ancestral home again," he swore softly and suddenly he's being hugged.

It is awkward because she's leaning over the table and it is a bit too tight, but she's whispering,  _thank you_ over and over in his ear and he hugs her back.

The moment is broken a moment later when Tavor clears his throat and Harmem lets her go, letting her move off.

And he mentally reviews those who have been whispering about removing the Line of Durin.

If he's going to keep his promise, he needs to get to work.

He tosses a few coins onto the table and stands. "See you in a moon cycle Tavor," he responds and leaves, a mere shadow.

He knows, deep down, that this is not the intent behind the promise, but Harmem won't risk it.

He has a promise to keep and, above all else, it is a promise to  _Dori_. He won’t risk having it broken. Not when it means he could lose her.


	8. From the Kitchen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during the beginning of Ori's fussing years.
> 
> Um...oh, yes
> 
> Sexism.

Mesi always knew Dori was better than the life the dragon shit of a being had left her in, with a child to raise out of wedlock.

Mesi knows that, had the child been a girl child, Dori could probably do whatever she wanted. They would praise her for being so strong to raise a daughter alone, that the father  _must_ have abandoned them, for that assumption (a true one, but an assumption all the same) would come from that. She would be praised and comforted and have a good job and live in the nice part of town, and probably do whatever it was she wanted to really do.

 _If_ Ori was a girl and  _only_ until she was older, past developmental stage, but by that point well...

Mesi was sure that Dori would have settled herself securely somewhere and there would be no forcing her out.

But Ori was a boy and Dori was still paying the price of having someone abandon her because she refused to say anything about it.

Beyond that Mesi wasn't sure how to feel about Dori, seeing what his own mother could have been and seeing the sharp contrast to his memories.

In a way, he was envious of Ori who had such a wonderful mother that was willing to do whatever was necessary for her son to be happy.

In another, he was thankful his mother had been the way she was.

He never would have been prepared for the world he lived in otherwise.

* * *

It was one of those rare days that it was just Mesi and Dori closing up together while Tavor overlooked "the books" when Mesi realizes that he has no idea what Dori wanted out of life.

Someone like her had to have wanted more from life than this, and gotten it too.

"Dori?" he questioned, his curiosity overriding his entire decision to leave it alone.

He wasn’t too surprised when she looked up from where she was wiping down one of the tables, her arm never resting as she continued her job.

Mesi was struck, in that moment, about how tired she looked. The grey that was now starting to streak her otherwise auburn hair to the way her braid curled over her shoulder, instead of in the intricate weave that she usually wore.

While not one to really care (Mesi was a cook, not a thief; he didn’t _need_ to know) was obviously something that spoke of someone trying to make them look at something else.

A conman’s trick, have someone look at one hand while the other was used for the trick.

“If you weren’t working here, what would you be doing?” Mesi asked.

“Probably blacksmithing. I am a Journeyman of the Guild, in a manner of speaking. Though I am right now not on the list due to the fact I haven’t paid my fees,” she answered as she focused back down on the table.

“That’s what you want to do? Be a blacksmith, make armor and tools?” Mesi asked as he turned his towel over to finish wiping off the table before he wiped off the bench before he flipped it up to settle on the top of the table.

“Not really. I mean, I had the calling for it. The feel of the forge, knowing that what I was making was useful as well as nice to look at, if need be. Not…my mother’s craft was far more delicate than mine. My brother had the sense of her craft, but didn’t pursue it,” Dori answered with a tiny shrug as she scrubbed at a stain that had been there for years, before she gave up and brushed off a bench before she flipped it over onto the top of the table with one hand.

The _oak_ bench.

Mesi decided to never piss Dori off to the point where she had to punch him.

He was pretty sure his jaw wouldn’t survive the impact.

“What did you want to do then?” Mesi asked, watch was she did the same to the second bench.

“I want to own a tea shop. My mother, as I said before, was very into delicate work. That included teas. And other things,” she responded softly and paused a bit.

“Always wanted a place that I could be surrounded in the smells of home. Back when everything was wonderful and perfect. Mostly back…well, back a ways. Quite a ways, actually,” Dori answered and Mesi snorted.

“You’re not that old,” Mesi stated and startled when she crooked her finger at him.

Mesi walked over to her and leaned on the table next to her. “I was alive and old enough to remember Smaug,” Dori answered and Mesi felt his jaw drop slightly.

While it was obviously at the edges of her memory, because Mesi would maintain she was not _that_ old, she just reached out and gently shut his jaw with her fingertips.

“Work Mesi,” she answered and turned back to cleaning off the tables while Mesi tried to figure out how to make his brain work.

“This what you wanted?” Dori asked.

Mesi looked up at that and found Dori watching him from across the room.

He took a few moments to think and then nodded.

“Yeah, it is,” he responded.

“I’m glad,” she stated and went back to wiping off the table.

“You happy here?” Mesi asked suddenly, gripped by curiosity.

Dori paused and, at the door, Mesi saw Tavor pausing just out of Dori’s sight.

“Yeah, I am,” she answered and went back to rubbing down the table.

“I’m glad,” he parroted and focused on cleaning up once more until Tavor shooed them both home.

(Mesi was just glad when, once Ori settled better and stopped screaming as much, Dori’s answer was no longer a lie.)


	9. Listening (Companion to Chapter 22 of 'My Family')

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, forgot to say before...
> 
> Mention of torture and maiming, but none of it actually happens.

Harmem followed Tavor to the back when Dori did not magically appear when everything was closed up, only to stop short when Tavor stilled in the doorway.

Harmem resisted the urge to snarl at Tavor and looked over Tavor's shoulder, only to still at the sight of Dori sitting on the cot, staring at a bag in her hands.

"Dori?" Tavor called softly and Harmem ducked into the shadows on instinct when Dori began to look up.

“I…they gave me coins. Due to my son’s honor, as well as my own, being maligned,” she stuttered out and Harmem tensed slightly at that.

“They…they…gave me coins for it,” she repeated, seemingly stuck on this.

It made Harmem's hands itch.

“That’s the usual thing, since Erebor fell. Unless you have no coin to give. Then it is the traditional from the skin,” Tavor pointed out and stepped into the room, Harmem on his heels as Dori turned the coin bag over in her hands.

He walked forward, booted feet not even a whisper across the ground as he strode towards her.

Dori’s shoulders were tense and her hair was falling free from pieces of yarn instead of beads. Harmem was used to seeing Dwarf women who looked like that, shortly before they ended up somewhere not pleasant.

And Harmem couldn’t stop himself from moving forward and kneeling down in front of Dori. He didn’t censor himself as he reached forward and curled his hands over hers.

Her entire being shifted and focused on him in an instant and he felt his thumbs move on automatic to rub gently along her hands on their own accord. She stared at him and Harmem felt his heart begin to pick up speed as she suddenly began to sob.

He didn’t hesitate to reach up, shushing her gently as he had seen her do with Ori times over, carefully easing her to rest against his shoulder.

His heart continued to pick up speed as she continued to sob, all of his instincts screaming at him to find the source of the tears and painfully, and permanently, remove it from existence.

But there was no one to point the way, no one to kill, nothing to have Nori steal.

Nori was better at stealing objects than Harmem was.

Maybe he could convince the…

“No one’s done this for me since my brother! Which was too little too late! Because my  _intended_ left me! He left and took the courting gifts, every last one, and the family heirlooms that were the most expensive, and left me with a cold bed and a colder house, and a shattered heart and town guards pounding on my door, wanting to know where he was and the binding ritual only a week away…and…and he left, and I still don’t know what I did  _wrong_ , but I  _must_  have, I must have…”

Her words made Harmem still and every nervending light up, wanting to do  _more_ , but Dori was clinging to him. Strength seemed to tremble under her skin and through her grip.

Harmem had seen this Dwarf woman stand on her own two feet without anyone, not a brother that was never around, and do so for the small son that was sleeping next to her on this cot in the kitchen. The kitchen of the head of the Hidden Mountain, and she was crumbling against him like shale. Fracturing shale that was still crumbling and falling and Harmem was lost beyond just holding onto her.

He wanted her to stop crying however.

The heartbroken sobbing was really starting to terrify him, however.

And then Tavor was telling Dori she should stay the night and Harmem couldn't agree more. He immediatly began to shuffle her backward onto the cot, even as she began to slip into sleep, trembling and shaking. She was coughing as he did so and Harmem felt her hands release him to instead curl around Ori instinctively and Harmem immediately began to remove her boots, wincing when he saw the blisters.

But then he carefully had her tucked in and then…

He was without direction, which was strange.

His hands itched to kill and he wanted to feel the flood of coopery smell fill his nose and…

There was no one there. He sighed and knelt by the head of the cot, ignoring Tavor to focus on Dori. “You give me a name, I promise you that he will not breathe again after I find him. But the fact you aren’t giving a name suggests you don’t want him dead, or just don’t…don’t want anything to do with him. And, you know, normally, I’d let it go. But…you. No. It is you. And that piece of dragon dung? He’s going to pay. I don’t care if I have to bribe the guildmasters, I am finding out who he is and what he looks like and I will end him for you and bring back his beard in a box. And his head hair. And a vial of his blood. And possibly his fingers, though maybe his tongue. But that is only if we get everything together for that. And I will bring it to you in a pretty box, with all of this packaged so it can burn very prettily in your hearth,” Harmem stated and then he stood up slowly.

He rolled his shoulders and looked at Tavor, who was pretending he hadn’t heard the threats.

“I have a contract to fulfill. Watch them for me?” Harmem asked.

“Harmem, that was a guarantee. Now get going. And if I find a name and description, I’ll give it to you. Hate for you to break your vows after all,” Tavor answered and Harmem nodded before he left.

He had a lot of thinking to do and being around Dori was going to severely impede it.


	10. Drunken Angry Fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mostlytuesday asked: Bofur gets fighting drunk because reasons, and Dori mothers him until he calms down because everybody is putty in Mama!Dori's capable hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter Contains:** Unwarranted Touching and a drunk Bofur getting into a tavern brawl.

Bofur sat in a corner of Tavor’s tavern and mentally cursed that raids that put him out of work right as winter was truly clutching at the mountain. This winter was hard, what with the rationing and the paths to the mountain being cut off. Trade had come to a halt and Bofur was, distantly, thankful that the traders had already gone. As it was, there still seemed to be too many mouths to feed all around, even for those with smaller houses, like Dori, than his own.

And Bofur had other expenses, such as Bifur’s medicine and Bombur needed more food and  _Mahal bless it all_  he was drinking away whatever coins he managed to save on  _beer_  and Bofur resisted the urge to snarl at that thought. To his left, a few Dwarves who would slip back out whatever back way Tavor had were laughing over something, but he wasn’t paying attention to them.

Well, he was, but not in any nice way. His fists were itching to get into a fight and their merriment, in the face of Bofur losing any hope of extra coin this winter, was making him more irritable than usual, and he was tempted to head over there and start a fight.

Instead, he just tightened his grip on his mug and downed the rest of his black beer. He twitched when a bowl of beef stew was set down in front of him. With a cautious twitch, he looked up to find that Dori was the one who had given him the bowl of stew. Her eyebrows were close together in that concerned way of hers and Bofur managed to drag a grin up at her. “Mother Dori,” Bofur murmured.

"Miner Bofur," she answered softly before she pat his lower arm.

"Try to eat?" she asked before she moved away, over to where the Dwarves were.

Bofur resisted the urge to snarl and bent over the stew when he heard the distinct sound of a hand contacting skin through cloth, and the distinct scandalized yelp noise Dori made whenever that happened to her. It rarely did, since the last time it had happened, Harmem hadn’t wasted any time crossing the room and grabbing the Dwarf to haul him outside.

Luckily, for the Dwarf in question, Dori had kept Harmem from removing his hand…at the time anyway. When the Dwarf was  _found_ , three moon cycles later, he was missing a hand.

Now, however, Harmem was off being, Harmem and, well…

Bofur was never happier for a reason to start a brawl.

With structured movements, he hauled the nearest guy off the bench and threw a punch. It wasn’t a very coordinated punch and he was pretty sure that, if he wasn’t drunk, pain would exploded across his knuckles. With barely any hesitation, he swung his arm back one more time and punched him once more across the face.

This time, Bofur was pretty sure the skin on one of his knuckles split and a weight landed on his back. He twisted with a snarl, kicking out, and he drove his elbow into another’s chest.

He was on his feet now, swinging at the nearest ‘enemy’, when he was suddenly jerked into the air by the back of his jacket. He swung his fists and feet helplessly, until he was shaken a bit in a manner that was similar to a cat shaking its prey, only more loving.

He stopped and hung limply, thankful his coat was strong and sturdy enough to support his weight like this, even as he slowly registered that he was kind-of staring down at Dori.

Dori, who was holding up the first guy Bofur had punched.

It was only when Bofur registered that that he realized she was holding him up too.

His jaw dropped slightly as he watched Dori, carefully, lower his enemy before she settled him back on his seat. With a huff, she crossed her arms and eyed them both before she focused on Bofur. “Don’t. Move,” she ordered and then turned on the guy he had punched.

"And you, get out! I don’t like people touching me without permission and you don’t have it! And while this may not be my tavern, I am the one watching it tonight, so you get out! Or I’ll throw you out into a sewer ditch," Dori snapped.

The four Dwarves quickly rushed out and Dori shook her head after them before she turned to Bofur. With a long sigh, she reached out and took up his hand.

Bofur was pretty sure his jaw was still dropped in shock, but she was merely ordering softly for things, the tavern working around her as if she were the leader and not Tavor. Then again, Tavor had left her in charge of the tavern and, really, no one wanted to cross Dori.

Especially when she could lift him by the back of his jacket like a mama cat could lift her kitten.

His hand was bandaged and he was now facing the table. “Eat, and then go home and to bed,” Dori ordered and walked off to continue doing her job.

He barely heard her ask one of the others to make sure he got home safe, probably one who worked in the mines with him, and then he heard her sharp, motherly, voice command, “ _Eat_  Bofur.”

He obeyed, and then he stumbled home, to where Bifur was waiting to scold him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I have decided that everyone should aim their prompts to the blog.
> 
> http://mommydoriseries.tumblr.com/
> 
> I keep losing all the prompts I have.


	11. "You Make Her Happy."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been meaning to write this for a while. It takes place after Chapters [18](../../674287/chapters/1242649) through [20](../../674287/chapters/1248282) but before Chapter [28](../../674287/chapters/1257348)
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/comments/2349366

Dager smiled as he lifted Ori up to sit on the bar, which had the Dwarfling chuckling, much like his son had once upon a time. Though, back then, it had not been a bar he had lifted his son up onto, but a gem cutter's table. Back then, it had been rubies and sapphires, emeralds and diamonds that lay scattered about his little boy, not tankards and bowls. "And how is Mother Dori fairing today Little Jewel?" Dager asked and Ori beamed, especially when Hamuer fished out some pretty trinket he had found (stole) and wiggled it at the Dwarfling.

Ori immediately reached out for it, Dager keeping a careful hand on Ori’s side to keep him from falling off the edge of the bar. "Amad is happy!” Ori explained as he tried to grab at the shining…bracelet.

Hamuer chuckled at that and wiggled the silver bracelet with improperly cut sapphires at Ori, who nearly grabbed it as Hamuer just easily twitched it out of Ori’s reach.

Oh what a shoddy piece of garbage, that gem cutter should have been taken out and _shot full of arrows_ for such an abomination! Dager, distantly, hoped that the gem cutter left the profession due to death because they should not have been cut in the square cut. With the way it gleamed so dully, Dager was sure that the princess cut should have been used for most of them, but one would have done _much_ better with a mirror cut, which would have ruined the bracelet.

“Happy, huh little one?” Hamuer questioned and Ori nodded excitedly as he reached for the bracelet again, this time the only thing keeping him from grabbing it was the fact Dager had kept him from _jumping for it_!

The little bratling had to get this lack of self-preservation from his unknown father and Dager’s teeth grit at the thought of that. Abandonment had to have happened and Dager _was not pleased_.

Neither was anyone else, for that matter, considering this was _Dori_. Dori who didn’t flinch and raised an eyebrow.

Dori who trusted them with her only son, who had finally managed to nab the bracelet, while she worked on helping Mesi grab another barrel of ale (or four) from the back before the rush. “Oh? She find someone lad?” Droeur asked, even as Hameur tried to keep the jealousy from showing.

Ah, Dwarves were a possessive lot and all the Dwarves of the Black Sword had claimed Dori as one of their own. “Uh-huh,” Ori answered, already twisting the bracelet around in his fingers, though he was frowning at the sapphires that glinted up at him.

“And who is that, Little Jewel?” Dager asked and Ori, now finished with inspecting the bracelet, looked up at him.

“You. Them. Harmem. Tavor. The tavern,” Ori rattled off, ignoring how those in the Black Sword stilled upon hearing that.

Ori smiled then and swung his feet. “You make her happy,” he stated simply with a wide smile on his face.

Dager felt like he had been told to cut the Arkenstone all over again and could barely keeping his hands from shaking as he pat Ori on the head. “We do lad?” Dager asked.

“You do,” Ori responded cheerfully.

* * *

“What?” Dori demanded when she noticed that the Regulars were all staring at her like she was some sort of mithril creation from Mahal still.

“Nothing, Mother Dori,” Tavor stated.

She snorted and turned on her heel to continue delivering ale.

Mahal save her from the oddity of the Dwarves of the Black Sword.


End file.
